


The Rifle That Won The West

by flinchflower



Series: Flashback [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Winchesters, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Note: present day timeline follows directly post-SlashMeTwice series, but far more gen.  Present day: Sam and Dean argue over Dean’s choice, John settles the argument. 1224 Words</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rifle That Won The West

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Flashback, This is Supernatural fanfic. It follows (present day timeline, at least) immediately after my SlashMeTwice Series.
> 
> 1\. It is AU fanfic, because I refuse to admit the death of John Winchester, Pastor Jim Murphy, and Caleb. There are OFCs and OMCs present on occasion, always named in the headers if so.  
> 2\. It is gen fanfic, because it will be 100% Wincest free. I don't intend any het sex, either.  
> 3\. You may consider it to be kinkfic, because there is an established adult-age discipline relationship, and there will be disciplinary spankings written into some, though not all, of the fics. If discipline is included, a warning will be posted. The discipline is non-sexual in nature.  
> 4\. Its premise begins after the S2 finale, where Dean has made the deal with the demon. Fics will focus on hunting down the escaped demons, and lightly on the search to free Dean from the deal, because the series SHOULD be finished before the S3 premiere.   
> 5\. Fics will alternate: one fic present day, one fic pre-series. Fics will be between 800-1200 words.

Dean rubs a hand over his face, tired, and trying not to let Sam see it, because well, if the kid thinks he’s hurting or upset, he’ll quit with the rant he’s been working up for the last twenty minutes, and Dean thinks he needs to get it out of his system. That maybe it’ll be easier between them if he does.

“How in the fuck did your goddamn ego inflate so big that you thought that Dad and I just wouldn’t care, about you throwing your life the hell away??? I was dead, Dean, did you ever think for a minute about what I wanted? That maybe you and Dad might heal after a while, and that maybe I might not have wanted to come back?”

Silence falls in the room.

Neither one of them can say anything, not after that, they’re both caught up in thinking of Sam’s pain – the pain he lived all of his damn life with, not knowing his mother, and the lifetime of fear and nerves that were the rotten compromise to staying with his father and brother. And how much pain he’d been in when the demon took Jessica from him, the life he’d so carefully built, so proudly built, wanting Dean and John to be proud of him, eventually, because he’d never intended to be estranged from them for so long, it had just happened, he’d meant to become a lawyer, and be able to HELP them, help other hunters…

Neither one of them counts on John being close enough to overhear, in the bedroom opposite theirs. 

He was supposed to be downstairs with Pastor Jim in Bobby’s library, resting, and his face is grey, eyes black with fear when he opens the door, walks slowly inside.

“Sam. Sit down. Right here.” John’s voice is almost shaking, and he’s proud of years of drill, learned in the first six weeks of boot camp, that help him keep it steady. He doesn’t want to believe what he’s heard, that his boy would rather be dead, he doesn’t need that fear, that worry that Sam will try and leave this world, not when he’s already got one boy in mortal danger, hell’s finest nibbling at his heels. His own faith has kept him alive all of these years, and the thought that his boy might give up, that he might not have helped him grow strong enough to bear the fear and pain that life has to bring, it hurts worse than the heart attacks did.

Sam gingerly sits down next to his father, right where the older man indicated. John studies him for a long time, and Sam’s blushing a little, more with shame than anything else. He hadn’t meant to say that, it had just slipped out, something he’d been holding onto for two years now and he’d thought he’d buried. His hands twist in his lap, a reminder to refocus himself, because to get so upset that the cogs start slipping, that’s not going to do anyone any good.

“Samuel,” comes his fathers voice, honey thick with regret and pain that’s so tangible to Sam, regret that reaches out and twines itself around Sam, misery loving company, agony bolstered with love. “Samuel, you are the most important thing in my life. I would die for you. I would die for Dean, Either of you, a thousand times over. Don’t cheapen your life, Sammy,” he says, and they see him choke the tears back. “I never spent enough time telling you that, I was too busy trying to keep you safe, and now, when you needed me, maybe more than you ever did, I couldn’t keep either of you safe.”

“Dad, it was that psychic-“

“Dad, I didn’t mean-“

John holds up a hand for silence, and gets it. He expected nothing less. “Samuel Gabriel Winchester. I want you to promise me. I know your pain,” he says.

“Dad,” Sam chokes, and leans into the man, eyes filling with tears. “I promise, okay? I don’t want to leave you guys.”

“Good.” He sits with his arm around his son. He hasn’t forgotten about Dean, who’s leaning on the windowsill like an emaciated gargoyle. “Dean, get your ass over here.” The old growl is there in his voice, and Sam jerks, startled, but doesn’t pull away, much to John’s pleasure. His eldest son on the other hand, jumps and looks a little worried, though he’s trying to pull off that damn cool act. “Do not make me repeat it.”

“Whatever, Dad.” His voice is distant. 

“Samuel. Get your brother for me,” he says, and both he and Sam are overcome by flashes of memory, times that John’s said the same to Dean. Natch, because the older boy has always looked out for Sammy, and the tables turning now are slightly amusing, maybe a little threatening to them both. John watches the roughness of Sam’s grip when he grabs his older brother’s arm, wants to chuckle because there’s nothing Dean will dare to do about it. 

Standing with one another in front of their Dad, it’s hard for them to repress a matching frowns at how pale the older man still is.

“Dean, I don’t want to hear any of that bullshit from you boys again. I do, and I’ll start keeping a tally stick for you, and you can answer to it out in Bobby’s woodshed when I’m up to it.”

Dean shifts his feet ever so slightly, uncomfortable, because dad’s likely not kidding here. “Yessir.”

“Good boy,” John says. “Now get your behind downstairs, give Ellen a hand tracking those demons. I don’t want any surprises.” 

Dean goes, and both men watch him with narrowed eyes. Boy has to be kept busy, they think, and then a glance at one another reveals the shared thought, and a smile starts on the boy’s face, slow-like. His own wry grin encourages it, familiarity breeding comfort, until Sam’s looking at him with shining eyes, looking at his Dad, looking at the most important person in his life, aside from Dean. He wants to be like his dad, he’s so much like him, maybe being like him isn’t such a bad thing…

“Think maybe you can let your old man catch a nap?”

“Sure, Dad.” He’s there to support him as his father stands, surreptitious, and sneaky, and John’s amused glance lets him know that he didn’t get away with it, but that it’s appreciated, even if John’s too stubborn to accept it. 

“You maybe need some rest yourself, cranky like that.” There’s no censure in his tone, it’s mild. If Sam’s in the mood to listen, the words will carry some weight, maybe coax him over a little. John wouldn’t mind a little company, reassurance. Not something he’d tell anyone, though Ellen spotted it and smacks him across the head most nights for it, the fact that he sleeps better when the two of them are in close proximity.

“Okay.” He is tired, and more than anything, he wants to be with his Dad right now, wants that relationship strong and steady, working clean.

“Sounds good. Time enough after we sleep for the Winchesters to win back the west,” he says, and his boy grins at the old motto. They’ll be fine. All they need is time and ammo, and they’ll be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Current Music:Def Leppard - Miss You In A Heartbeat


End file.
